


Scenario 2

by rideswraptors



Series: Kastle Scenarios [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, See first part for tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 21:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16227272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: You hurt Karen, Frank hurts you. Those are the rules.





	Scenario 2

Jessica Jones was hardly surprised when Matt Murdock came flying into the hospital room, looking harried and panicked. She’d been keeping watch over Karen Page for the last three hours, and so many people had come through, demanding answers, that she was ready for a drink. She was surprised Matt had taken so long, though.

 

“Bout time you showed up,” she grumbled. “Only been here for forever.” 

 

“What happened?” he snapped. “She was supposed to be at the safe house! What happened?”

 

“Whoa, dude, simmer. I don’t know anything. Got a call from the big guy to come sit with her. He took off before I could get a word in.” 

 

“Where did he go?” 

 

“I don’t know Matt! Jesus. He was saying crazy shit and just took off!” 

 

Then Murdock was right back out the door, talking crazy shit too, leaving Jessica to slump into the chair next to Karen. 

 

“Fuck, lady, why are you surrounded by psychos? Shit.” She let herself take a good look at Karen for the first time. They’d suctioned the blood from her mouth, but her lip was a nasty green shade. She had a killer black eye and a broken arm. She’d been knocked unconscious, and had yet to wake up. Jessica wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a man more pissed off than Frank Castle when she’d come in. Frank had a short fuse, everybody and their mother’s best friend’s ex-fiance knew that shit. But you didn’t need to be around him for very long to see how much he cared about Karen Page. Cared about, ha, fucking  _ in love with _ . But fuck if she knew if they were really together or not. 

 

*

 

When Karen hadn’t picked up the phone for their scheduled call, Frank had immediately called Lieberman to get a trace on her phone. It said she was home, so he’d headed right there. What he found had him seeing red. 

 

Karen. Tied to a chair in the middle of the kitchen. Bleeding, unconscious, blouse ripped open. She was breathing, slow, but it was there, so he’d waited for the ambulance and tried not to kill them or hit anyone. Karen wouldn’t have liked that. 

 

Fucking Murdock was nowhere to be fucking found. Didn’t answer his phone. No one knew where he was. No one knew when he’d be back. Lieberman couldn’t get a trace. Thankfully, Jones had picked up immediately and was nearby. He’d kissed Karen’s forehead, swore to be back soon, and left without a word. 

 

Then he got to work. 

 

It hadn’t taken long at all. Murdock’s boyfriend-nemesis liked to leave a trace, a calling card. He liked to sign his work. He’d only needed one name to get another name to get another name. By nightfall, the bodies had dropped and he was piling them on the docks. Nobody was around. Except the Devil.

 

“Castle--what the--?”

 

Frank hauled one man by his legs and threw him on top of the other two already laid out. They weren’t big guys, so it didn’t matter much. 

 

“Kinda busy, Red,” he snarled, kicking them into place. He stomped over to the van where he’d left the gasoline. 

 

“What are you doing?” 

 

He glowered at him, not bothering to stop moving. “What you should have done  _ two fucking years ago _ !” Even Frank didn’t recognize the feral tone his voice took. He was still shaking; with rage, with worry, with fear, he didn’t know. He dumped the gallon of gas on top of the bodies. 

 

“You don’t know--”

 

“Yes, I fucking do know. I fucking do know that these pieces of shit hurt Karen. Hurt others, too. I made them confess before I gutted them. That’s the difference between you’n me. Their death is my absolution!” 

 

He pulled matches from his pocket, struck a few, and tossed them onto the bodies. Stepped back to watch them burn. 

 

Matt Murdock dropped from his high horse onto the ground next to Frank, eyes unseeing, but horrified all the same. But Frank could see. Frank could see them disappearing and it settled the beast inside him some. Still, this was far from over. Fisk was supposed to be Murdock’s holy war. Fisk was supposed to be someone else’s problem. Karen had promised to tread carefully with that. Had promised him she would be careful. 

 

“You were supposed to keep her safe,” he growled to Murdock. “You swore Fisk knew nothing about her.” 

 

“I thought--”

 

“Fuck your thoughts. Fuck you. Fuck Fisk.” He rounded on Murdock. “You tell that sonuvabitch I’m coming for him. You tell him the Devil’s benched and Death is coming.” 

 

He stalked off, not waiting for some sanctimonious lecture on handling it the right way.

 

“What are you going to do?” he called after Frank. 

 

“Gonna see my girl,” he shouted back, “and then I’m goin’ huntin’.” 

 

*

 

Murdock’s nurse friend telling him that Karen was awake was the only thing that kept Frank from busting in a security guard’s face. He was in no mood to be fucked with, least of all about visiting hours. Lucky for him, the nurse had swept in and grabbed his arm. 

 

“ _ Pete _ ,” she’d snapped as he swung around on her. “She’s awake.” She informed him with a nod, “Karen is awake. It’s okay.” 

 

“She’s awake,” he echoed dumbly, fist unconsciously lowering. She kept nodding, waving off security. 

 

“I got this guys. I got it. He’s good.” 

 

He barely heard her, rushing past in order to get to Karen faster. Jessica was asleep in the chair, snoring, but Karen was sitting up in bed. His heart nearly stopped beating when she smiled at him, looking tired and groggy, but alive.

 

“He-ey, you,” she said, words slurring a little. Frank was at her side immediately, grabbing up her hands, kissing them, dropping his face to her hair, kissing her head. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she reassured him, letting him hold and touch her. 

 

“ _ Shit _ , Karen--” he breathed against her hair. She was warm and solid underneath him, life pumping through her. He’d felt like his whole world had ended when she’d slumped from that chair into his arms, feeling heavy and limp. Lifeless. “ _ Shit _ .”

 

Behind him, the nurse was coming in, checking monitors and crossing things off her list. He wanted her to go away and let him have that moment, but Karen’s care was far more important than his hostile possessiveness. She pulled back from him to look him square in the eyes.

 

“You smell like gasoline. And smoke,” she muttered. He didn’t bother denying it. 

 

“ _ Holy damn _ ,” the nurse breathed behind him. She was looking up at the breaking news on the TV. Reporters were on the docks, live, filming what looked like a bonfire. The headline read:  _ Body Bonfire on the Riverfront _ . His eye twitched but he kept quiet. Frank felt Karen’s hand on his forearm, and his eyes snapped back to her. 

 

“Frank, oh my god,” she wasn’t even watching him, just watching the screen. With a sniff, he reached around to grab a chair and sat right next her, ensconcing her hand between his as she watched his handiwork. 

 

“Needed to send a message,” he grumbled. The nurse’s brows winged up.

 

“That’s some message,” the nurse deadpanned. He couldn’t detect any resentment or judgment in her voice. Good, because he didn’t care to address it. Karen was looking at him. 

 

“He’ll know who you are now.” 

 

“Yep.” 

 

“That’s  _ exactly _ what I didn’t want.”

 

“Tough shit.” 

 

She inhaled and rested back against her pillows. “He might have left you alone if he thought you were just a boyfriend. Who knows what he’ll do now?” 

 

Frank snorted, rubbing a palm over her hand. 

 

“He’ll come. Like all the others. Let ‘im.” 

 

Karen’s face turned mournful, “He’s not like the others, Frank. He’s just not.” 

 

With that he leaned forward, hand lifting up her chin. He turned her one way, gently, and then the other, examining her injuries. Karen kept her eyes level on him, let him do as he liked. It was one of the most gratifying aspects of Frank Castle’s fucked up life: Karen Page trusted him implicitly, body and soul, no holds barred. 

 

“He’s one man, Karen. With more money than friends and nothing to fight for but himself. That army of his won’t fight for him when they find out who they’re up against. Not a chance. Not enough money in the world for that. But you?” he brushed his thumb across her chin, “I’d destroy the ground I stood on if it meant you were safe. He don’t have that kinda juice, d’ya understand me?” 

 

“I don’t want you killing  _ or _ dying for me,” she hissed back at him, eyes sharper than the steel he’d used to eviscerate the men who’d hit her. 

 

“Well, I don’t plan on dying, ma’am.” 

 

“Good,” she whispered. She flicked her eyes over to the TV. “Anything else you wanna tell me about?”

 

“Nope.” 


End file.
